Straight to the moon, Chelsea

Casey Seiler

Published 1:00 am, Sunday, August 1, 2010

By the time you read this, Chelsea Clinton will be either married or the most famous runaway bride on the planet. The most recent wedding of the (circle one) year/decade/century/Industrial Age has entered into history, leaving the nearby town of Rhinebeck greatly relieved, and the rest of us with the empty feeling so familiar from those first dark days after the Tom Cruise-Katie Holmes nuptials in 2006.

Perhaps, in the weeks ahead, eyewitness testimony will bring some clarity to the pressing question of just how much Clinton's wedding to investment banker Marc Mezvinsky cost. Estimates range from $2 million to $5 million, based on what could be ascertained about the number of guests (400 to 500), the gown (by Vera Wang), the tents (air-conditioned), the flowers (arranged by Madonna's go-to florist) and the portable toilets (so nice that the security team is probably still busy rousting sleepy-eyed guests out of them).

Much has been written about the wedding's price tag, which if it's anywhere near the estimates raises questions. Such as: Is it appropriate for Bill Clinton, the leader of one of the world's most influential anti-poverty initiatives, to shell out an estimated $11,000 for a gluten-free wedding cake?

I just don't know. Like most Americans, my feelings about ostentatious displays of great wealth are divided. Part of me is disgusted at the spectacle of excess in a nation where so many live in privation. Another part of me is jumping out of his chair to grab another one of those delicious bacon-wrapped scallops on his way to get a last vodka tonic before the bar closes.

There's such a thing as too much. For a while, I was a big fan of MTV's "My Super Sweet 16," in which the children of upper- and upper-middle-class parents were lavished with parties that would make the Pharaohs blush. This show, which I am stunned to learn is still on the air after five years, was almost enough to make you want to move to North Korea.

But it's the Clintons' money to blow as they see fit, and Chelsea is their only child. And we should also view the wedding as a sort of upstate stimulus package: Rhinebeck isn't exactly Amsterdam in terms of economic challenges, but every little bit helps.

My wedding was pulled off for the price of a fairly decent new Chevrolet. Nevertheless, we had a tent (air conditioned in the sense that it was breezy that night), a band (my brother sat in on drums during "Jumpin' Jack Flash"), good food (non-gluten-free), open bar (so open that my friend Pete doesn't remember anything after dessert) -- altogether a beautiful night in the Green Mountains.

I moved through the planning doing my best to say "yes, dear" to my fiancee and mother-in-law as much as I could. This turned out to be good training. Considering that Mezvinsky's mother-in-law has the backing of the State Department, I hope he followed suit.

In the 12 years of marriage, I've developed a sliding-scale rule that I try to pass along to young couples: Don't spend more on your wedding than you would expect to pay for a down payment on the sort of house you would hope to live in.

By that standard, the Clinton-Mezvinsky wedding goes a little too far. Let's use the more conservative estimate of $2 million as a yardstick. For that much money, the happy couple could pretty much buy a decent house outright, then blow it up and build a new one.

For a little more money, they could shoot the wedding party into space. Once in orbit, they could host a wedding more along the lines of mine -- which, I repeat, was awesome.